


The Little Wonders in Life (If Only You Stop and Notice Them)

by proceed_with_caution



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Bars and Pubs, Blonde Michael, Bottom Michael, Bottom Mikey is my weakness, Boy x boy, Businessman Luke, Daddy Luke, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Fluff, Gay, Luke likes to take care of Michael and Michael likes being pampered, M/M, Name-Calling, Self Confidence Issues, So gay I cannot, Swearing, Top Luke, Underage Drinking, but not in a kinky way, fetus michael, okay maybe slightly kinky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proceed_with_caution/pseuds/proceed_with_caution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael acts like a tough guy but has a personality of a kitten.</p><p>Luke works a bit too hard and has a lot of stress on his shoulders.</p><p>They find their place with each other.</p><p>(I suck at summaries but I promise you it's better than it sounds.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. Me again.
> 
> Heh.
> 
> So! The problem with this story is that I first started writing this story in present tense, and then halfway through it I realised I was absolutely shit at that so I changed the whole thing to past tense. If some parts sound weird, then... well you know the reason.
> 
> ...
> 
> I think that's all.
> 
> Enjoy the story.

Michael Gordon Clifford was your typical rebel teenager. He wore black and leather and metal. He caused trouble at school. He dyed his hair. Teachers rolled their eyes at him. Classmates steered clear of him.

He was also a loner.

At lunch he sat alone outside in the courtyard, usually under a tree or somewhere with a back support, but never a chair or bench. Why? Because they’re for goody-two-shoes. Not him. Never him.

***

Lucas Robert Hemmings, fresh out of college, decided to start a record company, Hi or Hey Records, from scratch. It became so successful in such a short amount of time that Luke was a little suspicious. However, money came pouring in, as well as the undeniable fame.

Along with the fame and fortune came the stress.

It showed on his face. Luke was 26, but looked like a 30-something. He acted like it, too. His work had turned his personality into a strict, no-nonsense demeanour. He has long since given up trying to cover up the dark circles under his eyes, they now looked like they’ve been tattooed permanently into his skin. He shaved once a week, he’s way too busy for anything more. He hasn’t had a fixed lover for as long as he can remember. One night stands were the most he can stand. A long-term relationship would just be another problem in his hands.

***

They met by coincidence at a bar. Luke’s visit was long overdue, and Michael shouldn’t even be there.

Michael got himself drunk faster than he should have.

Embracing the buzz the alcohol has brought him, Michael’s thoughts quickly began to creep towards the dirty side of his mind. If you asked him when he was sober, he would have blamed it on his raging teenage hormones.

Nevertheless, Michael wanted someone to bring him pleasure, and his muddled brain told him that attractive men would do the trick.

He stumbled to an older man dressed in a crisp, clean suit, too expensive for this old bar, and wiggled his fingers in greetings.

“H-hey,” he giggled shyly, tucking the long side of his fringe behind one ear.

The man ignored him.

Michael frowned at the lack of attention he was getting and decided to move things along faster.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he mumbled, stroking the stranger’s arm, all the while staring at his handsome face with half-lidded eyes.

The older man rolled his eyes at teenagers nowadays and cursed them under his breath. He took a sip of whiskey and winced. Not as good as the one he had at home.

He took a deep annoyed breath as he felt the rowdy teenager start to grope his chest.

“Look, kid, stop,” he said in a deep voice, slapping Michael’s hands off him, “I’m not your high school crush. See? No boobs.”

Michael laughed. “You’re funny,” he slurred, tilting his head to one side and staring at Luke. “What’s your name?”

“None of your business.”

“Please,” he whined.

“No.”

Michael poked his arm and laughed at his own actions. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.” Another poke, this time to the ribs.

“Luke,” he said, annoyed.

“Te—wait what? Luke? As in, _Luke, I am your fathaaa…_?” Michael made his voice go deeper and stretches out the last word.

“Yes,” Luke sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “Luke, as in, ‘Luke, I am your father.’”

Michael was in tears by then, laughing so hard as to slapping his thigh. “I like you, Luke,” he got out between chuckles, “you’re really funny.”

“And you, kid, need to stop drinking,” Luke wasn’t sure why he said that, it sure wasn’t any of his business, he just felt responsibility over this high schooler that dressed like a tiger with the personality of a kitten. Setting down his own glass of whiskey, he turned towards the teen, contemplating what to do with him. Finally deciding, he took the kid’s arm, lead him out of the bar, and pushed him into the passenger seat of his car.

“Address?” he asked, leaning over from his own seat to fasten the boy’s seatbelt. Looking up, Luke found that the boy was already fast asleep, mouth open slightly.

Luke sighed again and drove to his own house.

***

It turned out drunk high schoolers were really fucking hard to work with, because as Luke was driving he suddenly tensed up and the car swerved off the road when the kid reached over and started touching his cock through his trousers.

“Fucking hell, kid!” he swore, guiding the car back to the road, and at the same time gripping the teen’s slim wrist laden with bracelets and shoving it away.

The kid was silent for the rest of the ride. Luke interpreted that as a sign that he was too harsh but as he turned his head to check, he saw that the kid has already fallen asleep. Again.

Which made it hard for Luke to get Michael to his house, because that meant that he had to carry him all the way from his car to his apartment.

Luke noticed almost immediately that the kid was lighter than he looked, which did make his job easier. However, on a completely different side note, Michael’s head was resting on his shoulder, which not only meant that he was drooling on his suit, but also that his pale, blonde, feathery hair was tickling the side of his face and made him want to sneeze.

So he did.

And it turned out to be quite a big one, too, as the teen in his arms got jolted awake, and scrambled to his feet, wiping his mouth with an embarrassed look on his face, mostly sober now.

“Who are you?” Was the first thing out of his mouth. _Rude_ , Luke thought. Nevertheless, he answered.

“Luke.” No need to give him his last name.

Michael cracked a slight smile. “As in, Luke, I am—”

“Yeah.”

“M’name’s Michael,” Michael introduced himself.

Luke looked at him. Shouldn’t Michael be scared? He woke up in a stranger’s arms and now he’s making Star Wars references? He could’ve been a pedophile or a rapist or something!

“Aren’t you scared of me?” Luke asked. Direct. Straight to the point.

“Honestly, no,” Michael chuckled a little, “this has happened way too many times before. I’m used to it by now. By the way, can I crash at your place for tonight?”

“I don’t see why not.” Lies. Luke could list so many reasons why not, but there would be no point in saying them, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Great. Thanks.” Michael patted his shoulder.

***

When Michael woke up in the morning he was immediately hit with the hellish effects of a hangover. Birds chirped outside and that actually would’ve been nice if they didn’t sound like sharp screeches that pierce through his brain.

As he hauled himself over the edge of the unfamiliar bed he felt the need to throw up, but, as he didnt’ know where the bathroom was, he clapped a hand over his mouth and stumbled in the general direction of the door. It opened at that exact moment to reveal a half-naked Luke. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, the older man spun Michael around by the shoulders and shoved him towards the bathroom. Michael rushed to the small room, knelt by the toilet, and immediately threw up.

Luke wanted to vomit himself at the sight.

He didn’t, of course, and was even nice enough to offer a cup of water to the teenager. After Michael gulped down the refreshing liquid, Luke’s hospitality ended there. He grabbed Michael’s jacket off the couch and threw it at his head, and pointed at the door in an _out_ gesture.

Michael rolled his eyes and was about to step out when his stomach let out a rumble and he looked apologetically at Luke.

“Breakfast, please?”

“I’m not your mom,” Luke growled, but let him back in anyway and put four pieces of toast in the toaster.

Breakfast was filled with a lot of Luke glaring across the table at Michael, who stuffed pieces of toast in his mouth and sprayed crumbs everywhere.

The older man would rather stab himself than clean the mess up, so he told Michael to do it. Honestly, he could’ve been doing so much more productive activities than babysit after a twelve year old. (He knows Michael’s older than that, but with the way he’s acting, Luke’s pretty sure he’s twelve.)

After that whole fiasco was over (when Luke told Michael he didn’t have to do the dishes, he was being nice), Michael said that he’s got to go home now.

“Okay,” Luke said, not really sure why Michael felt like it was necessary to announce that to everybody, he could’ve just let himself out and Luke really wouldn’t care. “Bye,” he added as an afterthought, because that’s being polite, right?

Michael rolled his eyes and crossed his legs where he’s lounging on his couch, texting someone, “I meant, can you drive me home, you ignorant jerk?”

Whoa. Okay. Luke wasn’t really sure where that attitude came from, but it amused him to see that someone younger than him was attempting to insult him with name-calling. Two can play at that game.

“You could’ve just said so, you underage dickhead,” he replied snakily, letting his ever-present inner college student peek through a bit.

Michael’s eyebrows shot up, seemingly surprised at such a controlled person saying stuff like that. “Asshole,” he fired back.

“Bastard.”

“Bitch.”

“…” Luke let out a huff. Enough of this.

“Do you want to go home or not, kid?” He asked impatiently, grabbing his keys off the counter.

“‘M not a kid,” Michael mumbled grumpily and followed him to his car.

“Sure,” Luke said, “Where do you live?”

***

“Left.”

“Now turn right.”

“Left again.”

“End of the road there.”

Michael’s instructions were horribly given, he was munching on a bag Cheetos that he had found lying around Luke’s apartment, and he almost always said them just a beat too late, which caused Luke to perform some very dangerous driving, turning sharply and almost hitting things more than once.

“You live here?” Luke noticed that they were in the poor part of the neighbourhood, where almost everything was old and peeling.

“Mmh,” Michael made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and scratched the hairs at the nape of his neck, which Luke had found out was something he did when he was embarrassed.

“T-thanks for the ride,” he stuttered, small hands struggling to unbuckle his seatbelt. Luke snorted and reached over to help him.

“Whatever, kid. Are your parents home?” Why was he asking? He didn’t care about these things, the last thing on his mind would be how safe Michael was at home.

“No, but it’s fine…” Michael trailed off, something else in his eyes.

Luke sighed. “What is it, kid?”

“…nothing.”

Luke gave him a _Bitch, please_ look.

“’S just… it just gets kind of lonely in there and…” Michael realised that he was saying all this to a stranger, and he shook his head, “Never mind. Thanks again, Luke,” he smiled at the man and stepped out of the car, waving.

 _He has a nice smile_ , Luke realised. _He has a nice face, too_. However creepy that may have sounded, it was definitely true.

“Bye, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it?
> 
> I was thinking of making it a multi-chapter fic because I enjoyed writing it so much and also I feel like there's so much more I didn't put in there, and Michael is just too cute asdfghjkl;
> 
> Comments, kudos, all that shit, please and thank you! Your support gives me life (not really but just... yeah).
> 
> I love you guys.
> 
> Until next time~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW AWESOME AM I?!
> 
> So I decided to make this a multi-chapter fanfic because you guys requested it and I am in no position to turn down you guys ;P.
> 
> P.S. Just a little warning, Abigail does make a guest appearance in this but she's going to be gone very very soon I promise if she makes you jumpy then I dunno, substitute her name for someone else's... I guess?
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> May I present to you, chapter two.
> 
> Enjoy.

Michael woke up to the blaring alarm.

He groaned and pushed it off his nightstand, the beeping immediately stopping with a crash. Burying his face into the pillow, he allowed himself a few extra moments of blissful peace and quiet before he forced himself to get up.

Shuffling over to the bathroom, he did his morning routine, skipping brushing his hair because really, ain’t nobody got time for that. Glancing at the many clothing items strewn across his room, he put some on by random, and saw that the end result was a black hoodie over a Blink-182 shirt and black ripped jeans. He shrugged at himself in the mirror, not bad. Michael laced up his Converse and went downstairs.

“Michael Gordon Clifford! You’re going to be late for school!” He immediately flinched at the sound of his mum’s harsh voice. To say that his parents were bad parents would be a lie. They weren’t bad parents, they were just oblivious parents. They did all the things parents were supposed to do and that was it. They never stepped a centimetre out. To Michael, his parents taking care of him seemed like a job, there was never any feelings involved.

“Sorry mum, gotta run,” he muttered, grabbing his bag and a pop-tart and rushed out the door.

Oh how he hated Mondays.

Monday meant that another torturous five days of child labor would continue until the poor victims get a measly two day break, only to start over again. There was a fine line between education and child abuse, and Michael believed that schools have crossed it.

He sat through lessons filled with chairs screeching, pencils tapping, noses sniffling, and loud scoffing. At lunch he sat by himself just outside a building, where there was a sunny patch of grass overlooking a small canal. No one ever came here, no one ever disturbed him.

Then he heard the faint tapping of shoes on concrete. Turning his head so fast he almost got whiplash, Michael saw a girl approaching him. She was wearing leather boots and ripped skinny jeans and an old band tee with a flannel shirt tied around her waist. Seven, Michael thought immediately, probably an eight if her personality matched her outfit.

“Hey,” The girl stopped in front of him.

“Hi,” Michael looked up suspiciously. What the hell do you want, he wanted to scream at her.

“Need someone to sit with?”

“No thanks,” he replied bluntly.

She smirked and plopped down beside him anyway. Sticking out her hand, she offered her name. “I’m Abigail.”

“Michael,” he reluctantly offered his name. It was uncomfortable sitting with someone else, all he wanted to do was to be alone.

Abigail studied him with her heavily lined eyes.

“Michael, do you like Blink?”

That was the start of their friendship.

***

The two soon became close friends and got into all sorts of trouble, one of their most recent activities being spray-painting a portion of the back wall of the school and running away, filled to the brim with adrenaline and the excitement as well as risk of being caught. So far no one has caught them yet.

They did fun things together, most of them being stupid, and they loved each other’s company. Whenever they did stuff together, Michael felt a tug at his ‘big brother’ instinct, and he knew that if no crazy shit happens, they could—and would be—friends forever. Unfortunately, Abigail had to muck it all up.

They were sitting on the rooftop of their school, snuck up there to have a quiet lunch, and it felt nice to have the gentle wind blowing through Michael’s hair. He looked over at Abigail to find that she was also staring at him.

He isn’t sure how much time passed, but she broke the silence by saying, “This is nice.”

Michael smiled at her. “Yeah.”

“We should do this more often.”

“We should.”

“I like you, Michael,” this was said with a hint of seriousness, but both of the corners of their mouths were turned up.

“Me too,” he said, “I like you too.”

She looked down. “No, seriously,” she said, “I really like you, Michael Clifford.”

Michael blinked. He wasn’t expecting that. “Thanks,” he said, kind of flattered.

Abigail rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you going to give me an answer?”

“I wasn’t aware that the sentence you mentioned earlier counted as a question.”

“Now it is, dumb-ass.”

“…”

“Whatever,” she sighed, looking away from his green eyes, “it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“No,” he insisted weakly, “you deserve one.”

“Okay then,” she turned back to him, “give me one.”

“Oh. Uh—” Michael was at a loss for words. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive or nice, she was. She just didn’t appeal to Michael. “U-um.”

Abigail snorted then stood up, brushing off the back of her jeans. “I’ll see you at class.”

Confused, Michael replayed the scene over in his head. Why, exactly, didn’t he say yes? Sure, she was a friend and dating would probably be a little weird or awkward but as far as he could tell he should have absolutely no problem with it. He frowned.

Thankfully at that moment the bell rang, ending Michael’s train of thought.

***

That day after school Michael didn’t see Abigail where she usually was at the doors, waiting for him. It was an after-school tradition sort of, they would always go to get something from the coffee shop a few blocks down and hang out for an hour or so then go their own separate ways home.

Michael frowned. Was Abigail mad at him? At lunch she seemed fine, maybe a little sad, but fine. Did he do something? Shit. Abigail was his only friend in years, and she meant a lot to Michael.

He sighed and decided to get two lattes and bring one to her house, in case she was there.

As he walked to the cafe he saw a sharp dressed man standing outside, talking animatedly into his phone. That was strange. This was a small cafe and usually only a few people came, but never important people like this stranger seemed.

Approaching cautiously, Michael coughed, trying to get his attention. “Excuse me, sir,” he said politely, “you’re blocking the way.”

The man looked down at him and Michael raised an eyebrow in recognition. “You?” he asked in disbelief.

Luke’s eyebrows drew together. “Excuse me,” he said into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” He stared at Michael incredulously. “What do you mean, you?” He asked, incredibly offended.

“Whatever,” Michael flipped him off. “Move, asshole.”

“Oh, so it’s sir to other people and asshole to me. Thanks,” Luke scoffed, but moved out of the way anyway.

“Hey, can you pay for my coffee?” Michael bluntly asked. He wasn’t sure why he was acting so comfortable around Luke, there was just something about him that made Michael feel at ease.

“Money doesn’t grow from trees, kid,” Luke scolded. Dammit. He shouldn’t talk this way. He’s not a dad yet.

The teen rolled his eyes. “Technically, yeah, it does,” he retorted, “money’s made from paper and paper’s from trees.”

“Smartass,” Luke muttered, following him into the shop.

“Two lattes, please,” Michael said to the boy at the counter. “Whoa whoa whoa!” Luke cut in sharply, “I didn’t agree to two.”

“One’s for my friend. She’s sick. C’mon, don’t be such a douche.”

Luke let it slide.

***

Luke ended up driving Michael to Abigail’s house, only to find that she wasn’t there, accept the unwanted latte (which he had paid for, thank you very much), then driving Michael home again because he was “exhausted from investing too much mental and physical strength in school.”

They were chatting as Luke pulled up in front of Michael’s house, when Michael casually slotted in an invitation for Luke to come in and sit for a while.

The man was flattered. From what he had gathered, Michael acted like a tough guy. He didn’t make many friends, and that just makes them so much more valuable to him. So, yeah, it wasn’t really his place to decline such an open invitation.

He followed the teen inside the house, and was not surprised at what he saw. It was exactly as he expected. Everything was all over the place and almost always not where they were supposed to be, the exact opposite of Luke’s place, where everything was neat and orderly. Somehow the messy house gave off a cozy and homey vibe, putting Luke instantly at ease.

It amused him to see Michael scurrying around, apologising profusely and picking up things left and right.

“It’s all right, kid,” he laughed at the pink hue tinting the kid’s cheeks from the exercise, “calm down.”

Michael glared at him, holding a remote control in one hand and two snapbacks in the other. “Don’t tell me how to live my life,” he said sulkily.

Luke felt something tug inside of him, and a fond smile broke out on his face as he watched Michael shift nervously, uncomfortable in his own house.

“Hey,” he grabbed Michael’s shoulders, “it’s okay, I’m not judging, okay?”

Michael, still blushing, nodded a tiny bit.

They had a cup of tea together and Luke even helped Michael with some of his Algebra homework, finance being his profession and all that, and when Luke thought to check his phone for the time again, he leapt up from the couch, panicking.

“Shit,” he said frantically, “shitshitshitshitshit.”

At this point Michael had also gotten up. “Sorry!” He said nervously, “Did you have to be somewhere?”

Luke paused, staring at Michael for a moment between taking out a Sharpie and yanking Michael’s arm towards him. The smaller boy stumbled, losing his balance momentarily.

“Look, kid,” Luke said quickly, “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything, yeah?” He rushed out of the house, not even bothering to wear his jacket properly.

He left Michael staring after him, clutching his left arm, wondering why the hell he would ever need something from this strange man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke has a strange obsession with calling Michael kid.
> 
> Not that I'm complaining.
> 
> Mikey finally gets Luke's number! How exciting is that!!!
> 
> But on a serious note, I hope you guys aren't disappointed in chapter two or anything...
> 
> Comment, kudos, all that shit, I love you guys and you should return my love in the form of kudos.
> 
> Heh.
> 
> Was that persuasive enough?
> 
> Hit that kudos button!
> 
> Now!
> 
> Do it!
> 
> Again, I love all of you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Abigail "break up" (they were never really together but still) and Michael gets sick.
> 
> Again, I am HORRIBLE at summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude I am freaking AWESOME. 
> 
> A chapter a day. Whaddaya have to say to that?!
> 
> This is for all you guys in the comments who want another chapter.

Luke was so _done_.

It was one thing to have a bunch of drones working for him, but it was an entirely different thing to have insufferable idiots mess up literally _everything_ and just slap a label on it.

So far he has yelled at six people today, not including the girl who messed up his coffee order (he asked for a _cappuccino_ , which she misheard as a _frappuchino_ , really, how stupid can you get), and he was probably in the worst mood he has ever been in since working here.

It also didn’t help that he missed half of the very important meeting last night, and he blamed it entirely on his assistant, because who the fuck schedules a meeting for five p.m.?

And in his rush to get to his office on time, his brain went _flop_ and he accidentally gave his phone number to the kid.

Well, it wasn’t accidental, but it was accidental. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to. (You get the difference?) 

And now, the very next day, he was freaking out because he gave his number to a teenager. 

Luke told himself it was because he didn’t want to receive prank calls or whatever the hell teenagers do, but deep down he knew he was fangirling. So. Fucking. Hard. 

Over a kid. 

A stupid-ass, punk kid, who has terrible fashion sense and an ego the size of the sun. 

Who also has these sparkling eyes and those soft lips that reminded Luke of petals. 

And did he mention that his name was adorable? 

Michael. 

_Michael_. 

“Michael,” Luke blurted out loud by accident. Everybody in the meeting room simultaneously turned and glared at him. 

“Sorry,” he said. 

*** 

Michael couldn’t find Abigail. 

She didn’t go home all night and her mother was worried sick. Not to mention Michael, he was almost having a panic attack. 

She wasn’t at school the next day either. 

In fact, there was no sign of her until lunchtime, where he walked slowly to the grassy area beside the canal where he used to eat lunch, and stopped dead. 

On the back wall of the school there was graffiti scrawled messily in red, “You suck”. 

And as if this was a rom-com, it started to rain. 

It wasn’t anything dramatic, like a huge clap of thunder and then pouring rain, where rom-com Mikey stood there drenched and sobbing his eyes out. 

Real-life Mikey noticed the light drizzle immediately, gave the graffiti a sad look, and went into the building where it was considerably warmer. 

But the two words still plagued his thoughts, all afternoon. 

And while he was jogging home alone in the rain without an umbrella, he was about to turn a corner but ran into a person. 

And that person just had to be Abigail. 

“Hi,” was the only thing Michael could say. Lamely, too. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

_Whoa_. That was kind of harsh. Especially since all Michael did was refuse to date her. 

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her arm, “wait. Can we talk this out?” 

Abigail refused to look at him, and the two just stood there like idiots in the rain, neither one moving or looking at the other’s eyes. 

This was probably the textbook definition of awkward. 

Michael realised that he was probably gripping her arm too hard, so he let go and took a small step back, just to give her some space to breathe. 

And he kept on blabbering, trying to make the situation less awkward, but honestly all he did was make it worse. “Abby, it’s not like I can’t date you, it’s—it’s more like I… I don’t want to date you… uh,” he realised what he just said was probably more offensive. “No!” Michael tried again, “Not like that. I meant, uh, because we… we’re friends! And—” 

“Save it, Michael,” this one came from Abigail, and her voice was wavering, as if she was holding back tears. 

“Oh. Okay,” he said dumbly. 

Michael wanted to slap himself in the face as Abigail ran off. 

_Nice going, Michael. You just lost yourself the only friend you ever had,_ he scolded himself. 

He shivered, wrapping his thin hoodie tighter around himself and trudged home. 

*** 

Friday. End of the week. 

_Finally._

Luke stretched lazily, shutting off his computer. Two whole days of rest. It almost seemed too good to be true. 

Currently it was eight P.M., and Luke was about to go home, make himself some dinner, and take a bath. 

A long one. 

Preferably with bubbles. 

While watching _Mean Girls_. 

Luke smiled. 

Gathering his papers and stuffing them in his briefcase, he made his way to the elevator. At the exact moment the elevator dinged, his phone rang. 

Luke frowned, hoping it wasn’t a business-related call. “Hello, Hemmings from Hi or Hey speaking,” he said in a monotone, already dreading the answer. 

Instead of the usual drone of voices, he heard a sniffle from the other side. “Luke?” it said in a nasal voice, like the person had a runny nose or something. 

“Michael?” Luke questioned, stepping into the elevator, “What happened?” 

Michael sneezed. “I’m sick,” he said, “can you get me some medicine? My parents are out and I don’t wanna move.” 

Luke smiled a little. “On my way, kiddo,” he said. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

*** 

Michael was sick. 

Probably from not warming himself up after the whole Abigail thing in the rain. 

He didn't usually get sick, but when he did, hell broke loose. And he was left to take care of himself, since his parents were busy working. 

And, hey, if there was someone to pamper you, why not take full advantage of it? 

He usually hated being so needy and dependant on someone else. He classified himself as an independent kid, but having someone attend to your needs once in a while felt sort of nice, in a way. 

Michael laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, wadded-up tissues beside his pillow. He got up and added another blanket to the pile on his bed. It seemed that he was never warm enough. And his stomach hurt. So did his head. And his neck, come to think of it, from lying at an awkward angle for too long. 

The faint sound of the front door downstairs reached Michael’s ears. He knew it probably wasn’t very safe, leaving the door unlocked, but Michael really couldn’t care less. 

He sniffled and curled up into the tightest ball he could make himself, pulling the covers over his head. 

He heard the soft padding of socked feet on stairs. 

“It’s not safe to leave your front door unlocked like that, Michael.” 

_Hello to you too_ , Michael thought. 

“Hey kid,” a voice that Michael could only describe as Luke’s whispered gently, “how are you doing?” 

Michael grunted. 

Luke knelt down and swept the used tissues off the bed. He pulled the warm blankets down to Michael’s chin and ruffled his hair. The younger boy whined at the cold air hitting his ears and maybe a little bit because Luke's hand felt really good. 

“I can make you some soup, if you want,” the older man began again, and Michael could hear a smile in his voice. He furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Don’t want soup,” he muttered stubbornly. “Don’t want your help.” 

“Really?” Luke said with a touch of cockiness. “‘Cause it looks like some help is needed.” 

Michael grunted again. 

“Here’s the medicine,” he said softly, and Michael could hear the plastic bag rustling as it was placed on his nightstand. 

“…Thanks, _daddy_ ,” it was meant to be harsh and sarcastic, but due to Michael’s sick state, it came out of his lips as a soft whisper. 

Luke chuckled. “I'm gonna go make you some food, ‘kay? I know you don’t want to eat anything, but you have to. Got that?” 

The teen opened his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t go,” he murmured, blushing, because this was embarrassing to admit. “Stay.” He scooted to the edge of his bed to make space for him. 

Luke had already really taken a liking to this kid, and then he had to go and act all adorable, and this was way too much cuteness for Luke. “Alright, kiddo,” he cooed, “I’ll stay.” 

And then—“Ow! What the hell was that for?!” Because Michael had hit him over the head with his pillow as Luke was kicking off his shoes to get in bed with him. 

“I’m not a kid,” Michael huffed angrily and turned, facing away from Luke. 

“Yes you are,” Luke whispered from behind as he wrapped his arms around Michael’s soft and pliant torso. 

“No ‘m not,” this was muffled, as he halfway buried himself under the layers of blankets. 

Michael let out a content sigh. Luke was so warm. 

He fell asleep like that, wrapped up in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much fluff.
> 
> I got feels and almost cried of happiness while writing this. I hope you guys liked it.
> 
> I dunno if saying this at the end of every chapter is really necessary, but you guys really should kudos and comments and all that shit. 'Cause I love it.
> 
> And I love you guys.
> 
> See you next chapter~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fluffy smut with no smut.
> 
> Basically my way of apologising for the next chapter I'm already regretting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys...
> 
> I have some important news.
> 
> Well it's kind of important. At least, to me it is.
> 
> And it's totally fine if you don't read it.
> 
> I'll tell you at the end of the chapter.

It was afternoon when Michael woke up with a comfortable warmth behind him and something hard and uncomfortable pressed up against his ass.

The need for comfortable sleep clouded over his mind, and so, not comprehending the situation entirely yet, he twisted around a bit instinctively, trying to get the annoying thing to go away.

Then his eyes snapped open as he realised.

Oh.

_Oh._

Michael’s face instantly flushed. Why did this have to happen to him, of all people?

Goddammit.

Luke was still fast asleep, obviously unaware of the problem he was causing. Michael gritted his teeth and decided to get out of bed despite the traces of a pounding headache still hammering through his head.

Forcing his body to become as flexible as it possibly can, he moved an inch towards the edge of the bed. One step closer to freedom.

Michael could still feel Luke’s erection, though it thankfully wasn’t pressed snug against his rear. Inch by inch he channeled his (nonexistent) inner ninja and attempted to escape.

Behind him, Luke moved. Michael immediately stiffened. The older man had pulled him back onto the centre of the bed with an impossibly iron-like grip.

Not able to do anything, the teen simply sulked.

After a while of uncomfortable skin-on-skin contact, Michael suddenly thought of a brilliant idea. Why didn’t he think of this sooner?

He pulled back his foot and kicked Luke’s shin. Hard.

Luke bolted up with a groan.

“What the FUCK, Michael.”

Said teen smiled smugly (and of relief, but he would never admit to that, not even if you broke his favourite guitar and burned it up right in front of him), hopped off the bed, and ventured out to the kitchen in search for some food.

Luke reached under the covers and rubbed the throbbing area where he was attacked, already expecting a bruise to be forming. A few moments later he finally noticed his morning (afternoon?) wood.

Did Michael notice?

He somehow knew by the injury the kid had caused that he probably saw it. Or… felt it, rather.

Well, this was awkward.

Luke got up and did the extremely uncomfortable boner-walk to the door. Blushing, he yelled downstairs, “Can I use your shower?”

“Help yourself!” The reply was followed by loud laughter. So the kid knew.

Luke wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. That kid would be the absolute _death_ of him one day.

***

Luke went downstairs to see Michael on the couch, back facing him, eating a sandwich while watching something on his laptop. Key words— _a sandwich_.

“Do I get one?” Luke asked.

Michael jumped, clearly not expecting Luke to appear behind him and almost violently choked up the bite he just took.

“Don’t you EVER dare to do that again!” Michael yelped while Luke was laughing.

“But, seriously, I want one too,” Luke wheezed when he was done laughing at him, wiping a tear away.

“Make your own,” Michael pouted angrily, clearly still upset.

“Aww babe, don’t be like that,” the older man joked. He plopped himself down beside Michael and rubbed his tense shoulders.

“I do what I want I’m punk rock,” Michael muttered as he promptly disappeared into the kitchen.

Luke stilled. Was that a hint of a blush he saw on the teen’s cheeks when he made his exit? Or was it just a figment of his imagination?

Speaking of which, Michael looked sexy as fuck with a blush. 

Wrong thoughts. Too wrong. Nope. He shook his head clear of those thoughts when Michael returned with another plate. “Why do you look like you’re constipated when you’re thinking?” he asked as he handed over the plate.

Inside his head Luke totally lost it and screamed because Michael jUST MADE HIM A SANDWICH ASDFGHJKL!

On the outside he was as collected as ever. “Fuck off,” he said coolly.

Michael snorted and settled himself beside Luke. “Wanna watch a movie?” he suggested, already opening his laptop.

“Sure. Which one?”

“The Little Mermaid.”

“You’re such a big baby,” Luke teased. He wound his arm around Michael and started pinching and rolling his soft cheeks between his hands.

“Shut up,” Michael blushed. Luke could feel the heat radiating to his palms. “Everyone likes Disney movies, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t,” the teen continued, trying to cover his embarrassment by talking.

“What if I really don’t like them?”

“Then…” he thought for a while, “then I’ll break up with you.”

“Oh really?” Luke raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Yup,” Michael giggled. “I’ll break up with you, but if you even dare to date anyone else I’ll break their fingers.”

“Just the fingers?”

“And the toes. But I’m nice enough to only break them, not cut them off.”

“That’s _so_ nice of you, Michael,” it was laced heavily with sarcasm.

Michael grinned. “And as for _your_ punishment—”

“Why do I get punished?” Luke playfully whined, pulling Michael onto his lap and rocking them back and forth.

“Because you’re cheating on me.”

“I thought we broke up!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to date anyone else!” Michael pouted and pretend-sniffled. He faked wiping away a tear. “You’re mine,” he said with a big grin, and twisted around to wrap his arms around Luke’s neck, giving him a hug.

“Ooh, Princess Mikey’s _jealooouuus_ ,” Luke sang out loud.

Michael’s eyebrows drew together. “Shut _up_ ,” he whined. “My name is Michael!”

“Whatever you say, Mikey.”

“Luke!”

“Sure thing, Princess.”

“Lu-uke!”

“Fine, kitten.”

“Luke…”

“Love you too, sweet pea.”

“…”

“My honey boo-boo.”

“ _What._ ”

“You know you love me, baby boy,” Luke leaned forward and kissed Michael’s temple.

The younger boy pursed his lips for a moment before sidling up close to Luke’s ear. He wound his arms around the taller man’s neck before pressing their fronts together and whispering, “Stop it, _daddy_.”

Michael had meant that as a joke, call it revenge if you will, but the fun ended when he noticed that Luke didn’t open his mouth to utter a single sound yet. He started to pull away, but was stopped by two large hands gripping his hips and keeping their torsos pressed against one another.

By then Michael’s eyes were wide open and pupils were dilated with fear. “Luke?” he asked in a shaky voice. He had never seen the man like this before. And, frankly, it scared him.

About a minute passed, neither of them moving.

Michael felt the hands at his sides loosen slightly and he drew back immediately. Avoiding Luke’s eyes, he stiffly sat beside him and mumbled, “Let’s just watch the movie.”

“Y-yeah,” Luke swallowed. “Good idea.”

***

“Stop it, _daddy_.”

Luke’s mind went blank with a _whoosh_.

And then—all of a sudden—they jumbled together in incoherent phrases.

_Did he just—I think—DADDY—fuck—no—what the fuck Michael—baby—daddy—he just called me—fucking hell, Luke—dammit I think—wait—underage—DADDY—Stop it, daddy—sexy motherfucker—wait—Michael—how old is he?—daddy—he just called me daddy—fuckfuckfuck—wait a second—hot damn—Michael—daddy—STOP._

STOP. Luke told himself. His thoughts gradually decreased to an understandable amount.

_He just called me daddy._

He found that he was holding Michael too tightly and he willed himself to relax the muscles in his hands. He had to concentrate really, really hard.

As soon as his hands went slack just the tiniest bit Michael immediately flinched away and Luke noticed that he avoided looking at his eyes. He sat stiff as a board, and there was at least a foot’s distance between them.

“Let’s just watch the movie,” Michael mumbled.

_What?_

Movie.

Right. The movie.

“Y-yeah,” Luke pinched himself to shake himself out of it. “Good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I wanna say sorry for the kind of short chapter. Each chapter is usually around 1.5K, give or take a couple hundred.
> 
> Below is just a snippet of what's going on in my brain. Read at your own risk. Or not, then just click the kudos button and maaaaybe leave something in the comments? :)
> 
> ===================
> 
> My world has just fallen apart.
> 
> You know how I always say "comments, kudos, all that shit" at the end of every chapter?
> 
> Well.
> 
> When I was typing the first chapter's end notes I thought I had heard the phrase somewhere, but due to my goldfish memory I couldn't surface with an explanation so I just shrugged it off and just stuffed it in there.
> 
> OMFG I hate myself for that.
> 
> So a couple days ago I was revisiting the fetus videos, and then I realised something so incredibly important that I want to hit myself over the head with an golf club.
> 
> Michael.
> 
> Michael was the one who started using "Like, comment, all that shit" at the start of their early videos and I can't believe I just remembered.
> 
> Apparently the phrase was so overused that it just sunk into my brain somehow and...
> 
> I'm such a terrible person.
> 
> Okay I guess you guys really couldn't care less but I appreciate it so much if you read the whole thing. Thanks for letting me rant.
> 
> And I don't think I can stress enough how grateful I am that you guys actually take the time to read what I've written. You're the best.
> 
> Last of all, I think this sentence can never be said too much because it's true and until I've pounded this message into your brains I'll never stop--I love you guys.
> 
> ===================
> 
> Did I mention giving kudos makes you a nice person? :3
> 
> Nononono wait.
> 
> Stop right there.
> 
> You know what?
> 
> I'd rather you leave a comment.
> 
> Because, honestly, I love reading your comments. Literally the first thing I check when I log on to AO3 is my inbox.
> 
> Say hi (or hey. get it? :D) or something stupid like "I think Luke and Michael should get married and get a puppy" pffft who am I kidding that's not stupid that's the truth.
> 
> Wait.
> 
> How about you do both? *hopeful grin*
> 
> So yeah. I think I've talked for long enough now. 'M just... gonna go now... bye..
> 
> See you next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has self-confidence issues.
> 
> **DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS ANYTHING FOR YOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTES BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING ELSE.
> 
> This chapter contains some relatively dark stuff.
> 
> Please, PLEASE do not read this chapter if you are sensitive to this type of material.
> 
> However, this chapter only talks about things about confidence, and nothing about self-harming.
> 
> By the way, if any of you need anyone to talk to about anything, I'm always here.
> 
> This is a short chapter and I really just needed to get it off my chest because it's a thing and people are dealing with it and I don't know how I'm helping by posting this kind of stuff but still. I needed to get this out there.

It’s no secret that Michael’s parents weren’t as caring as other parents.

Everyone knew it, and they never let him forget it. In elementary school, he got teased relentlessly by other boys in his class when they found out. In middle school everyone ignored him. In high school he was officially labeled as the “outcast”.

And being labeled an “outcast” meant that they looked down upon you.

He got bullied. Sometimes several days in a row, sometimes he would go weeks without a single fist swinging his way. Part of the reason he absolutely resented school was this. The bullying was spontaneous, and he felt sick not knowing what day to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. There was a time, the year before last year, or the year before that, that he was bullied continuously throughout the entire semester. He was left limping home with cuts and scrapes and bruises all over him to attend to on his own.

Some days he skipped school.

He hung out at an abandoned parking lot not far away from where the school building was, but far away that he could see everything that was happening outside without being noticed.

But of course, that didn’t last long, as his parents had to get involved when the school informed them that their child had been missing school. (Parents just had to come in at possibly the worst times possible.)

He remembered their talk that night clearly.

He went home that night a little later than usual, but he assumed his parents weren’t going to be back until very late at night, and was surprised when he turned the doorknob and opened the door to his parents, both of them standing in the kitchen with arms crossed and a disappointed look on their faces. “We know you’ve been skipping school, Michael Clifford.”

That was bad. If he ran into any trouble at school they would always let him get away with a light scolding or maybe some punishment but that was it, really.

“Why would you do that?” his mother had asked, “We give you everything you need and there’s no reason for you to be skipping school.”

Michael stayed silent.

“Is something the matter, son? Did something happen at school?” his father cut in.

“No.” Michael lied, swallowing the lump in his throat.

 _Ask me_ , Michael silently begged, _please ask me more. I want to talk to you. Don’t let it go again this time._

“That’s good, honey, keep it that way,” his mom said, relieved, and completely oblivious.

As Michael went upstairs his eyes stung with unshed tears.

He cried that night, harder than he’d ever cried before, sobbing into the pillow until snot and tears soaked the fabric. Silent sobbing shook his shoulders and made his eyes puffy and red, and he’d never wanted more than for there to be someone that could hug him that night.

His parents never bothered to check in on him.

***

That was just the start of many problems.

Around the first few months of the semester he started having self-confidence issues.

The first body-shaming comment he got was from the Internet. He had posted a selfie of him in the mirror, standing there with a hoodie and jeans on. When he checked his notifications, there was someone who had sent, “kill urself ur so fat.”

He stopped posting selfies.

Michael started to be more and more aware of his weight. Everywhere he looked it seemed that people had better physique than him. Guys had muscled arms and healthy tans, girls had waistlines and thigh gaps. When he took off his clothes and stood in front of the mirror, door locked and curtains closed, he couldn’t bear more than a few seconds of looking at himself.

He became obsessed with his appearance.

When he was doing homework at his desk he would constantly remind himself to sit up straight to prevent a hunched back and to avoid looking down at his pudgy stomach. When he was choosing his clothes he told himself to pick the skinny jeans as to give the illusion of thinner legs. When he looked at himself in the mirror after a shower he would get up close and criticise himself or every blemish and imperfection on his skin. He would twitch at the sight of crackling skin and moisturise every inch every opportunity he had. As he walked through the hallways at school he always looked down, embarrassed, thinking that people were looking at him and judging how fat he was.

And while Michael was paying so much attention to his physical flaws his grades started to drop.

When he got his first-ever D on a quiz his immediate thought was, _I’m so stupid._

He was in the gifted and talented class but so was everyone else in his class. That didn’t mean anything else except that he had to work harder.

He stopped smiling. He had no one to smile for—not friends, he had no friends. Not family, they weren’t around to see him. And certainly not himself, he hated the way he looked and felt.

Michael now wore mostly black or darker colours. His phone and earphones became a necessity, wherever he went. Crowds scared him, he was already afraid of being judged by one person, and needless to say, big swarms of people absolutely terrified the shit out of him. If he did have to wade through a crowd, he would always plug in his trusty earphones and stream his favourite songs.

A month or so after, he read somewhere that earphones were a sign of insecurity, a way to block out the outside world.

Michael had never thought he would be like this. He was supportive of people on the Internet who were this way, comforted them one-on-one even, but he never ever thought that he would be like this.

 _I’m depressed_ , he realised.

And holy shit did that feel like a ton of bricks dragging him to the bottom of the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic just went from really fluffy to kinda dark. I dunno how I'm supposed to feel about that.
> 
> But if you are upset please try to see it from the author's point of view--this is not a one-shot, this is not where they're all cute with each other and have sex and then end of story, this is a multi-chapter fanfiction and there's gotta be some conflict or emotion or stuff involved.
> 
> Again, if any of you are triggered by anything, please talk to me or someone else.
> 
> I love you all so, so much. You're all so beautiful and if there are any boys out there, I'm talking to you as well, you guys are beautiful too. Don't argue with me.
> 
> Please hit that kudos button, and comment whatever the hell you want~ Just... I don't deal well with negativity, so please keep that out... I guess...
> 
> Did I mention I love you guys? :3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I have not updated these past few days. I've been getting these god-awful headaches and ugh they're ruining my life. That being said, this chapter might not be the best of works. I tried.
> 
> And it's the thought that counts.
> 
> But never mind that, I'm just so happy you guys read this shit I write. 850+ reads in a little under two weeks?! Like, wtf guys?!
> 
> Y'all are awesome :D

During the next few days they kept their distance from each other.

There was undeniable sexual tension between them, and both of them knew it, but neither one piped up or even bothered to mention it.

It was probably for the best.

Luke still invited himself to Michael’s as much as he could with his busy schedule, and Michael continued to act like Luke was a pain in his ass when they both knew he loved Luke’s company. They did all the usual things, but every word and every action now contained a stiffness to it. It was odd and extremely uncomfortable whenever the two were in the same room, which was almost always, but after a week or so the tension started to ease, ever so slightly.

Michael started cuddling up to Luke again, and the older man isn’t sure if he forgot about “the Incident” (as he called it) or didn’t care about it anymore.

Either way, the physical contact returned, now filled with something else that Luke couldn’t quite place.

***

It was a Saturday night and as usual, Michael’s parents weren’t home. (It seems they are never home, but Michael doesn’t really care, not like he used to, before he met Luke.) Luke was over and they were washing the dirty dishes.

It was a system of theirs, one of the many that weren’t particularly discussed but worked out perfectly for both of them. Luke would buy the groceries, Michael would make dinner (Luke could have, but he thinks that everything that Michael makes tastes ten times better than what he can do). After dinner, he would clear the table and Luke would do the dishes, sometimes with a little help from the teen.

Working side by side, Luke was in charge of scrubbing the plates and Michael rinsed. They kept a constant pace, and were done in no time. As Luke was washing his hands he suddenly felt a body press up to his from the side with arms encircling his torso.

He looked down in surprise. Michael was hugging him, and the teen’s eyes were closed with a content look on his face. Letting a small smile grace his own lips, Luke bopped the kid’s nose transferring some soap suds left on his hands to Michael’s nose, watching in amusement as he wrinkled it in the cutest way possible and wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“What’s got you so touchy-feely, hmm?” Luke murmured softly as he dried his hands and ran his fingers gently through Michael’s soft hair, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled between the two.

Michael nuzzled into his shirt and breathed deeply. “I just realised I don’t thank you enough for coming into my life,” he whispered, so soft that Luke almost couldn’t hear him.

He could, of course, and almost _aww_ -ed at how adorable Michael was being.

Luke pulled away from the embrace and held Michael’s cheeks between his hands, chuckling as he saw that the kid was embarrassed, his face was pink and he kept looking down and to the side, purposely avoiding Luke’s eyes.

“Look at me,” Luke reminded gently, and almost immediately Michael’s green eyes snapped to his own blue ones.

“You know what?” his face almost hurt from the size of the grin he had on his face, but he kept going anyway, “You think you’re so tough, but on the inside you’re just an old sap, that’s what you are.”

Michael’s face flushed an even deeper red, and Luke noticed that he didn’t bother correcting him.

He smiled, feigning an innocence, as if the last few minutes never happened. “Can I take you out for dessert?”

Still blushing, Michael nodded.

***

On Monday Michael rolled out of bed with a groan.

Luke had tucked him into bed himself the previous night, and he had never felt more safe and secure than when he pressed a gentle fleeting kiss to his forehead. He remembers feeling all light and fuzzy inside when Luke turns to smile at him before whispering “Night, Mikey,” and turning off the lights before exiting his house. Remembers the way he drifted off to sleep that night still smiling like an idiot, all because of this man that walked into his life like it was his business, and repaired it from a measly log cabin to a proud, gleaming, skyscraper.

Then he woke up, and that skyscraper tumbled down because he reminded himself that he had to go to school.

He made a growling noise in the back of his throat but went downstairs anyway.

His dad already left for work, and his mom was just about to, already packing up the contents in her bag.

“Breakfast is on the table,” Karen said with a tired smile, “have a nice day, honey.”

Michael nodded and waved as she closed the door.

He ate the cold eggs and bacon left on the table and drank the sugary orange juice dutifully. Truth to be told, if he had a choice between his own parents and Luke, he would choose the latter without a single doubt.

Wiping his mouth, he grabbed the frayed strap of his bag and stepped out of the house, locking the door behind him. Speaking of locks, he should give Luke a spare key. Just in case.

He got to school quickly enough. Lessons passed with him yawning his sleeve and breaks passed with him pretending to search through his locker for something important to hide the fact that he had no friends to talk to, not after Abigail.

It was during History, the period after Lunch, that his phone buzzed with a text message. Michael checked it eagerly under his desk, wanting something—anything—to escape to from this boring lecture.

**  
**Luke: Happy Monday, Mikey! :D  


Michael rolled his eyes slightly. He could feel the heavy sarcasm rolling off the text in waves, and he couldn’t agree more, but Luke was the only person in the entire world, he was sure, that still texted with proper capitalisation and grammar and no typos whatsoever. And, frankly, it annoyed Michael to the depths of hell and back.

Glancing at the teacher to check if it was safe, he texted back. 

**  
**Michael: not so happy. ps do u kno anything abt the french rev?  


Luke replied almost instantaneously.

**  
**Luke: Nope, sorry, can’t help you there :(. Remember to smile! :)  


Michael snorted.

**  
**Michael: fuck off  


He turned off the screen and flinched as the phone buzzed loudly three more times in succession, signalling more messages from Luke. Didn’t the man have work to attend to?

Michael checked his phone again after the end of class bell rang. 7 new messages, his phone told him.

He decided to call Luke instead. After only one ring, Luke picked up, almost like he knew Michael was going to call.

“What up, bitch?” he said, smirking, knowing Michael hated it when he said that.

Michael fake groaned with a small smile. “I’ve told you so many times, do _not_ say that. You’re not cool.”

“Really?” It sounded like Luke was drinking something. “‘Cause I think I am.”

“You idiot.”

“You love me for it,” Michael could hear the smile in his voice. Unable to keep the grin off his own face, he bit his lip. “Shut up,” he said snarkily.

“The same response, every time,” Michael knew Luke was teasing him now, it’s evident in his voice, and he could bet his right arm that Luke was leaning back in his office chair with legs propped up on his desk littered with paperwork. “Shut up,” he repeated, because it’s the only thing his mind will supply him, time and time again when Luke teased him like that, his brain would cut off any other possibly intelligent answers and left him with only the lamest and most overused.

A chuckle sounded in his ear. Michael stayed silent.

“I can’t come over tonight,” Luke changed the topic. “Sorry.”

“Oh. Okay.” Michael knew that he had other things to attend to on his own, and the man had a completely different life than his, but that didn’t stop the stab of disappointment. “It’s alright,” he said.

“Sorry,” Luke apologised again, filled with regret, as Michael mumbled goodbye and pressed ‘end call’, wondering why his heart felt so heavy when just yesterday it felt so light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up for the future, I am absolutely shit at two things in life: summaries and updating on a schedule.
> 
> So.
> 
> Don't expect too much from me. It might be like three chapters in three consecutive days but other times it might be, I dunno, one chapter in two weeks.
> 
> Okay maybe not as severe as that because I love you guys so much. *cheesy grin*
> 
> Comments, kudos.
> 
> See you next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lately I've just been so confused. I have no clue where I'm going with this story I have no plan, no plotline, no diagram, nothing. I'm just making this up as I go and I've been thinking I should probably switch up a few chapters so it makes more sense.
> 
> Also I'm really tired. Like, ALL the fucking time. I swear the people in the apartment above me own like a fucking herd of elephants they're so loud ugh I don't even know anymore.
> 
> So as a result this chapter is probably shit. A stinkin pile of crap. That's what it is. Probably.
> 
> And I dunno if things are the same in the US or UK or wherever you're from, but for me school starts in about a week and I want to bury myself alive and never see the sunlight again.
> 
> Sigh.
> 
> ONE MORE THING.
> 
> KohtaKiller. You, my friend, are awesome. I like you. And you comment a lot which makes me really happy so this chapter is officially dedicated to you.
> 
> No wait.
> 
> Wait.
> 
> This chapter is fucking horrible.
> 
> The next chapter will be dedicated to you.
> 
> But I dunno if this is actually that bad so if you don't mind it then why don't I just dedicate both chapters :)

Luke wanted to take Michael on a date.

A proper, dinner-and-movie date.

He just didn’t know how to ask.

Hell, he didn’t even know if Michael was gay.

A horrifying thought crossed through Luke’s mind. What if he wasn’t?

Luke would be perfectly fine with that, they could just remain friends (or whatever their relationship’s called). Yes, it would suck tremendously. Yes, it would undeniably cause indescribable heartbreak. Yes, Michael most probably already had a girlfriend, because with that rare but cheeky smile he could have anyone and everyone at his feet. Luke just happened to be included in “everyone”.

He might not get the best results, but there was no harm in trying.

Except for you and Michael’s friendship, his brain helpfully supplied a fragment of doubt.

Luke pinched himself and got out of his car. He arrived at Michael’s doorstep all dressed up, hiding a small bouquet of violets behind his back. 

He was quite pleased with his choice of flowers. When he was browsing at the flower shop in town, he had been torn between roses or tulips. They were both one of the most common flowers to be given to one’s significant other. Whilst having a debate in his head, the owner of the flower shop had approached him and gave him some wise guidance.

“For your girlfriend?” The middle-aged woman asked.

“Boyfriend,” Luke immediately corrected. He looked bashfully at his feet before correcting himself. “No, not boyfriend. Date. Just a date.”

“I see,” the shopkeeper smiled kindly. She pointed Luke in the direction where there were a couple of bunches of delicate purple blossoms. “Violets,” she explained. “it’s a symbol of devotion and faithfulness.”

He contemplated this new information in his head. Actually, that was perfect.

“Thank you,” he pulled out his wallet. “How much?”

The nice lady waved him off. “For you, it’s free.”

“I-I can’t take that,” Luke stammered.

“Yes, you can,” the woman gently pushed the bouquet to him. “Just take it. Think of it as a blessing, if you will.”

“Thank you again, ma’am,” Luke said, genuinely touched. You didn’t meet many people like that these days.

“Good luck,” she waved farewell to him as he took the violets and got into his car.

***

Luke took a deep breath and knocked sharply three times on the front door of Michael’s house and waited for him to open the door, even though he knew the door was unlocked.

He wanted to be as spontaneous and exciting for Michael as possible.

A muffled crash followed by faint swearing was audible, and loud grumbling as Luke heard Michael approach the door.

He bit his lip, hiding a grin.

Michael opened the door, dressed in a stained white tee and loose sweatpants, holding what seems to be a broken shard of porcelain and looking extremely pissed off.

Luke started to have second thoughts about this whole spontaneous thing.

“You know the door is always open,” Michael hissed at him, “but you just had to knock.” He noticed Luke’s hands behind his back. Tilting his chin to gesture at the hidden object, he asked impatiently, “and what the hell is that anyway?”

“Oh, uh,” Luke fumbled for words. “Flowers,” he said extremely intelligently, holding the bouquet out to Michael. “Violets, to be exact,” he attempted to explain himself.

“Why exactly do you have those flowers?” Michael sounded annoyed. Uh-oh. This was bad. This was very bad. Luke needed Michael to be happy! Excited! _Be excited!_ Luke tried communicating telepathically with him and failed miserably.

“Will you go out with me?” Luke blurted. His eyes flew to Michael’s face to check for any reaction. Michael’s expression froze on his face, like Luke just pressed pause on a movie. Luke nervously bit the inside of his cheek.

Michael opened his mouth and Luke’s heart soared. _This is it,_ he told himself excitedly, _this is the moment you’ve been waiting for._

The teen’s mouth opened and closed without uttering a single sound, as if he wasn’t sure what to say, or he’s so taken back by surprise that his vocal cords won’t work.

“I-I…” Michael gulped. Luke wet his lips in anticipation.

“I’m straight,” he blurted.

Luke frowned and tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. He let out a dry, hoarse, laugh. It sounded more like a cough.

“Okay then,” he said lightheartedly, even though his heart was anything but, “thought I’d just give it a try.” He scratched behind his ear, trying to keep his hands busy to prevent them from grabbing Michael and dragging him out to a date.

The hand holding the bouquet dropped to his side. Luke let out a sigh.

“Are you sure?” he tried one last time, in case Michael was lying or something.

“Yes. Yup. Sure. I’m sure. I’m very, very, sure,” Michael stammered.

Luke shoved the flowers into his chest. “Keep the flowers. I have no use for it anyway,” he grumbled.

***

??????

That was all that was going through Michael’s head. Question marks. A lot of it. Criss-crossing all over his mind, wrapping around one another, not even a word, not _what_ not _why_ , just “?”

Luke Hemmings.

Yes, Luke Hemmings, the man standing in front of him right this very second.

Violet bouquet.

Correct. A violet bouquet. A bouquet of violets. Violets in a bouquet. A bouquet containing of violets.

Date.

Okay. Date. Dating. To date someone. Asking out on a date. Someone you like. Someone you fancy. Someone you are attracted to.

Luke Hemmings. Violet bouquet. Date.

Luke Hemmings plus violet bouquet supposedly equals date.

Luke Hemmings + violet bouquet ≠ date.

It didn’t add up.

Michael may be horrible at math, but even he knew that that mathematical sentence did not work out.

He imagined Luke’s dejected face, and he knew it wasn’t as simple as saying no.

So he did the next best thing.

“I’m straight,” Michael said.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to take them back instantly. He didn’t even have to look at Luke’s face to know that his expression was probably that of hurt. When he did raise his eyes, he wanted to punch himself, because it was so much worse than what he thought.

Luke was smiling. It was a forced smile, and anyone could tell from a mile away. “Okay then,” he said tightly, and Michael could actually hear how strained it was.

He mentally cursed himself.

“…you sure?” He was brought back to attention.

 _What? Sure about what?_ he thought wildly.

“Yes. Yup. Sure. I’m sure. I’m very, very, sure.” What was he agreeing to?

The next thing he knew, a beautiful bouquet of purple flowers was thrust into his arms. “Keep the flowers,” Luke said harshly, “I have no use for it anyway.”

Michael looked down at the small violet blossoms, and his heart did something funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's kind of no point in this chapter.
> 
> In case you don't know how I write these things (which you probably don't. I'd be freaked out if you do) I basically go like, "Hmm. What haven't I written about yet? Oh, that's right! A date! Imma write this chapter about a date!" and then voila this shit exists.
> 
> People like me don't deserve an AO3 account.
> 
> I'm sorry if this sucks ass but please gimme kudos and comments because I'm a greedy little bitch.
> 
> I just really need to go to bed.
> 
> I promise I'll try harder for the following chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calum and Ashton make an appearance :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy how's it going you guys? :)
> 
> So Calum and Ashton are finally in the story. I realised somewhere when writing chapter 6 that they would have to be in the story one way or another so why not put them here?
> 
> Also I know group projects are so cliche but like whatever.
> 
> (KohtaKiller, this chapter's for you :D)

Lately going to school wasn’t that bad.

It’s around the middle of the term, which meant that teachers were going crazy handing out an unnecessarily huge amount of schoolwork, which also meant that students were going crazy trying to complete it all.

Michael was so, so grateful.

Everyone’s caught up in their work and ignored him for the most part, which was exactly the way he liked it. He sat at the very back corner of the room, slouching, almost falling asleep but not quite because school was a demon that way.

His eyelids were drooping and almost closed in Science class when he picked up the two most dreaded words, “Group project”. Eyes snapping open almost immediately, Michael sat and stared wide-eyed at the teacher. No! This couldn’t be happening! This term was going so well without group projects, _he_ was doing so well without them, but they just had to fuck it up as always.

Michael looked around the room and internally groaned at people rushing to be with their friends (“Groups of three, everyone!”), which almost always meant distinct separation from the popular and the unpopular.

That was him.

In a way, if he wasn’t involved in the partnering up, he would have laughed at how silly this whole thing was. But he was involved. He kept his mouth shut.

“Does anyone not have a partner?” The teacher shouted above all the noise. That was Michael’s cue. Meekly raising his hand, he successfully drew the attention of everyone in the room. Every head whipped around and every eye was on him. Giggles and whispering immediately erupt across the classroom.

Sighing because it was always Michael that was left out, teacher looked around the room. “Is there anyone in a group of two?”

And it was just his luck that indeed, there was a group of two, near the front of the room, where two boys raised their hand. Michael was curious at first, as he didn’t immediately recognise them, but assumed that they were going to be jerks anyway.

Picking up his books and bag, he hesitantly walked to his assigned group.

One of them had curly blonde hair and a huge smile and the other had thick blackish brownish hair with a scowl. Michael warily sat as far as he could away from them without being called out on it.

Curly stretched over the lab table and offered his hand. “I’m Ashton,” he said with a dimpled grin.

“N-nice to meet you Ashton, my name is Michael,” Michael said, mind blank except for that sentence, then cringed because who introduces themselves like that anymore?

No one, that’s who. Well, except him.

Evidently this was funny to Ashton because he giggled. He fucking giggled. Michael stared at him, mouth agape.

The boy next to Ashton snorted. “Calum,” he reluctantly offered his name.

Michael gave a shy “hi” in response.

Okay. This was good so far. Neither Ashton nor Calum showed any signs of teasing him yet, though Calum was sort of cold.

All Michael could ask was for them to keep it that way. He had no intents on being friends with them, just wished that they would respect his boundaries and not push at his limits. This was just temporary, he assured himself. Just two weeks, and it’ll be over. Try not to annoy them or let them annoy you.

The rest of the period was spent discussing which topic they were going to do and who does what and when things should be done and whose house they were going to meet up at. (They agreed on rotating between the three households, it seemed the most fair.) Overall, pretty basic stuff and Michael was glad he got partnered up with Ashton and Calum.

***

A few days later on a Friday they were supposed to meet up at Calum’s house after school.

Michael was nervous. (No shit, Sherlock.)

But, seriously, he was antsy as hell. All through classes he almost couldn’t contain himself, bouncing his leg up and down, not even realising he was doing it. He tapped the end of his pencil on the desk, clicked his pen, only to stop when someone told him he was being hella annoying.

When the final bell rang he gathered his papers and books and stuffed them in his bag quicker than usual and rushed to the front doors where they had agreed to meet up, terrified at the possibility that they will leave without him.

 

After a few minutes and nobody showing up, Michael started worrying about whether they were playing a prank on him and having a good laugh about it.

It turns out he had nothing to worry about, because just when he was about to give up and go home, Calum and Ashton appeared, sweaty and out of breath.

_Gross_ , Michael thought. Ugh he hated sweaty people.

Plastering a friendly smile on his face, he chirped, “Hi!” then mentally scolded himself because what the _actual fuck_ was he doing?

Thankfully neither of them noticed, and Ashton hurriedly explained why they were late. (Apparently they had Gym last period and the teacher made them stay behind to help carry the equipment.)

Michael zoned out during the long explanation, then snapped back to attention when Ashton clapped his hands in front of his face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, face reddening.

“It’s okay, I know I get a little boring sometimes,” Ashton smiles. (Seriously, when is the boy not smiling?)

***

They ended up not getting a lot of work done and just basically hanging out in Calum’s room. Michael warmed up to the boys fast, and was pleasantly surprised when he saw that Calum played guitar as well and the three of them actually played a few songs together, with Ashton also playing guitar because there weren’t any drums available. They didn’t sound half-bad, actually.

And when they got sick of doing that they went down to the living room and played FIFA. Calum was strangely competitive which was funny for Ashton to watch because he found creative new ways to cheat, using his elbow to prevent Michael from using his controller properly, and Michael retaliating by whacking him upside the head.

But despite all the fun there was also that ever-present moment where everyone’s coming down from a high and there’s nothing left to say anymore, and the three boys just sort of stared at each other. It would have been lying to say that the silence was awkward, it was just slightly uncomfortable.

Michael shifted around a lot, eyes darting everywhere but the two boys. Calum played with his thumbs, eyes trained on Michael’s hair. Ashton was humming a tune softly under his breath, looking at the various posters tacked up on the walls.

Calum was never one for awkward silence, so he chose this exact moment to make a penis joke.

“This silence is longer than my dick,” he piped up.

Strangely, that dissolved the tension hanging in the air between them. Michael smiled, and that smile changed to a chuckle, then he was laughing, clutching the sides of his stomach, eyes crinkled shut, _laughing_.

Calum stared at him in wonder. Michael was known as the kid who never laughed, never smiled, who seemed to have a scowl etched onto his face. Everybody steered clear of the unfriendly kid who dyed his hair and never talked to anybody. Calum went along with it, because, you know, peer pressure and all that. Now that Michael’s laughing, Calum thought that he has the most beautiful laugh in the whole universe.

Soon Ashton joined in the giggling, and before long all three of them were on the ground tearing up from laughter. After a while it became apparent that no one was clear what exactly they were laughing about but they were having a good time, so fuck it.

As Michael was walking home that day a soft smile graced his lips as he recalled the moments spent with Calum and Ashton. They were good guys.

He tried to stop smiling, even going as far as attempting to pull the corners of his mouth forcibly down, but couldn’t. After a few tries he gave up, and he went home with a smile on his face.

Michael was starting to understand why having friends was awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno the ending's kinda rushed but still I haven't been feeling very inspired lately and whenever I try to work on this fic I type like a few hundred words or so and then BOOM writer's block.
> 
> Anywayyyysss.
> 
> I was thinking since like I'm going to be pretty busy, if I should do shorter chapters (around 1K?) and more frequent updates or longer chapters (1.5~2K?) but less frequent updates... Guys tell me below what I should do.
> 
> And, just out of curiosity, who's going to SLFL? (I am! I am! With my best friend! It's gonna be awesome.)
> 
> Kudos, comments, you know the drill :)
> 
> I love you guys more than Mikey loves pizza <3
> 
> See you next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I'M BACK. LOVE ME.
> 
> No actually once you read this chapter you're gonna hate me. Like, not that type of emotional "OMG YOUR FIC'S AMAZING AND THE FEEEEELLLLZZZ OMG I CANNNT" hate but like "WTF IS THIS" hate.
> 
> Haha ok you know the shit I said before about trying harder to both make the chapters longer and more enjoyable to read?
> 
> Yeah think of it like a test and if you actually thought I was serious then you fucking failed, bitch.
> 
> When I wrote that like a month ago I actually thought I was going to be perfectly fine with it but I just disappointed myself even more.
> 
> Here's what's going on in my life: school's a bitch, life's a bitch, and LITERALLY JUST FUCK EVERYTHING OK I WANNA CRAWL UNDER MY COVERS AND DIE WITH 5SOS BLASTING IN MY EARS.
> 
> And like literally I think the only positive thing that happened to me was that MY BEST FRIEND CAME OUT OMG I'M SO PROUD OF HER ASDFGHJKL;
> 
> But yeah, that's it.
> 
> Read at your own risk (quite literally) and please don't leave any hate comments I get super uncomfortable and I just really don't deal well with negativity.
> 
> p.s. I really got stuck with this chapter it was like the worst case of writers' block that I have ever had and before you ask if this is really necessary the answer is yes. the chapter's actually pretty important i just don't know how to write it well.

It was a nice, sunny Sunday, and it was one of the rare days where Michael’s parents were both at home.

Michael was informed to this when he woke up to the smell of freshly burnt pancakes, and his heart filled with overwhelming gratefulness and joy. He jumped out of bed with an excited vigor, not even bothering to brush his teeth.

“Mom? Dad?” he called, running down the stairs and into the kitchen. Sure enough, his mother was there flipping pancakes and his father was at the table reading the newspaper.

Michael smiled.

***

The day was mostly spent with all three of them lying on the couch for far too long, before Karen got up to make a meal.

But soon, way too soon, it was nightfall again, and Michael begrudgingly said goodnight to his parents, knowing that in the morning they would be missing again.

He changed into sweatpants and an old but comforting t-shirt and proceeded with all the bathroom necessities. Hesitating, he then dragged out his old stuffed lion from the back of his closet.

“Hey Daniel,” he smiled, cuddling his favorite childhood toy to his chest. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

***

It was around 1 A.M. when Michael woke up, and he really needed to pee. Tripping over his blanket that was tangled around his legs, he tossed Daniel on his bed again and proceeded to the bathroom.

After relieving himself he suddenly realized that he wanted to eat cereal. Badly. ((A/N: wHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING)) He dismissed the random thought as #oneamthoughts and went back to bed.

But he tossed and turned as he lay sweaty and uncomfortable, unable to fall asleep. He desperately wanted a bowl of cocoa puffs right now.

 _Fuck this_ , he thought, and got out of bed yet again to satisfy his weird hunger.

***

He had just got the milk out of the fridge when he heard a noise in the living room.

“Dad?” Michael asked groggily, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding the milk. “What are you doing?” His words were a bit slurred.

“Go back to bed.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see the black shadow of his father fumbling around on the couch. Only… it wasn’t just his father, was it?

Cheeks warming up with the realization that his parents were “doing it” right there on the living room couch, Michael quickly turned around rushed up the stairs, leaving the forgotten carton of milk uncapped on the kitchen table. Suddenly, he halted. He remembered passing his parents’ bedroom on the way down, and he had heard his mom’s soft snores. So who was that downstairs with his father…?

Michael’s eyes snapped wide open. Any intention of sleep had evaporated. He rushed down again, almost tripping over his own feet in an attempt to run down the stairs.

He skidded to a stop at the doorway. “I-is that…?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Carrying himself forward on trembling legs, Michael flicked on the light switch, exposing his very naked father on a very naked woman that most certainly was not his mother.

Everyone froze.

“Get out!” Michael shouted at the woman, stumbling around to pick up her clothes and throwing them at her face. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

“Mom!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. “Mom! Get down here right now!”

It took a lot more time than he had thought until Karen padded down the stairs in a hastily tied robe. Within seconds she had assessed the situation unfolding in her living room, head cocked to the side.

“You too?” She directed the question at Michael’s father.

“Yes,” Daryl sighed, running a hand through what was left of his hair.

“Wait, what?” Michael all but screamed at his parents. “What the HELL is going on?”

“Honey, don’t swear,” his mother said the same time his father said, “Son, there’s something you should know.”

Michael stayed silent.

His parents looked at each other, then his dad shrugged, a go ahead signal to his mom, who then said, “Michael, your father and I… we don’t love each other anymore.”

“Sorry, what?” he hoped he hadn’t heard correctly.

“We don’t love each other anymore,” Karen repeated slowly, next to no emotion on her face, “and we haven’t for a long time.”

Michael slowly backed away from them. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “No,” said louder, more firmly, this time to himself. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad because I haven't updated for a month and then I return to the face of the Earth with a single measly chapter.
> 
> By the way this "measly" chapter is over 1K so pat on the back for me :))))
> 
> ((P.S. It would mean a lot if you read the end notes, there's something I want to say))

Michael didn’t get any sleep last night.

Or at least that was what it felt like as he shuffled around the whole day, not really comprehending a single word that was said to him. His thoughts seemed muffled, and slow, really slow, like a glacier carving its way through mountains. It was like his brain just shut down without warning.

And during Science, when Ashton asked him if he was all right, he nodded mindlessly, eyes still focused on some point that he wasn’t really seeing.

When the bell rang, he immediately stood up, picking up his neat pile of books that he barely touched at all during the lesson, and walked away, leaving Ashton to give Calum a questioning look, to which the kiwi boy responded with a shrug.

Michael locked himself in a bathroom stall at lunch, sat there with his legs pulled up to his chest, and just _thought_.

He couldn’t think.

Michael pulled his phone out with shaky fingers and stared at the glowing screen of the thin, sleek tablet. His thumb hovered over Luke’s contact information.

It was the only thing that was crystal clear in his mind. _Call Luke. Tell Luke. Luke will make it all better._

So he did.

Michael mustered up all his strength to force his thumb to go down and tap the screen, once, then twice when he failed the first time.

He took a deep breath and held it next to his ear, leaving an inch or two of space, still wary, not daring to breathe, just listening to the _beep—beep—beep_ , waiting for Luke to answer.

Luke never answered.

And so Michael tried again and again and again, but to no avail. Luke didn’t answer him.

Michael skipped the rest of his afternoon classes and went home with one thing and one thing only on his mind.

***

_Mom, Dad,_

_Hey. It’s me._

_I just wanted to say thanks for being my parents, for taking care of me and all that stuff, and I guess just making sure I don’t die._

_I know this won’t make much of a difference but I’m moving away for some time. I know a place and I have enough money and I won’t become a beggar living off of food scraps from the dumpster. I promise._

_You probably don’t care but I just thought I’d tell you since you just possibly might be worried about me._

_Don’t worry. I’ll be fine._

_Michael_

***

_Is that it?_

Michael looked down at his feet, where two overstuffed bags laid, one a hiking bag and the other a duffel bag. He had crammed as much of his belongings in as possible, mostly clothes and his electronics, and took some of the emergency money he knew his parents had hidden underneath their bed.

He probably had enough money for feeding himself, and maybe just a little extra for shelter, but after about a week or so, he estimated, he would have to find a job.

Yes, he was dead serious about running away from home.

***

It was currently eight o’clock at night, and Michael was seriously considering turning back and going home.

For starters, the hoodie he wore was in no way thick enough protection against the biting wind. Underneath that he only wore a long-sleeved shirt, so he was freezing.

Secondly, and most importantly, he was bored to _death_. He thought running away from home would be a dramatic scene, but he just had to remind himself again to stop _romanticising his life_ because this is not a chick-flick.

Michael sighed for what seemed like the fifteenth time in the past two minutes and checked his watch. It was 8:07.

Around the time when Luke usually went home from work.

The boy decided to call him again.

After only two rings, he picked up.

“Kid,” Luke greeted in a cheerful voice.

“Luke,” Michael said back monotonously, but he couldn’t help cracking a smile at Luke’s deep voice. It’s been a day since he had last heard it, and he admits that he missed it.

“What’s up? Why’d you call me?” It sounded like Luke was driving.

“I…” Michael frowned, there was no purpose in him calling Luke, he just wanted to. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, think of something, because I’m currently on the road and the signs aren’t providing me with much entertainment.”

“Why don’t you turn on the radio?”

“The radio?” There was a pause. “Oh! The radio! Right, of course, haha, the radio,” Luke chuckled. “Didn’t think of that.”

“Dumbass,” Michael huffed.

“You say it as if you aren’t one.”

Michael blushed. “Whatever.”

“You—hold up, what are you doing by the side of the road?”

“What? How do you know I’m by the side of the road? I never told you—” a sleek black car pulled up in front of Michael, the tinted windows rolling down to reveal a very familiar face.

“Luke?”

“Hey, kiddo.”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Michael lifted his chin defiantly, looking Luke straight in the eyes, as if daring him to say something. “I’m running away from home,” he said firmly.

Luke cracked a smile. “No, seriously, what are you doing out so late?”

Glaring, the blonde boy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I told you, I’m running away from home.”

“Did you get into some kind of argument with your parents? Mad at them or something?”

Michael looked down at the ground. “Or something,” he said quietly.

“Oh,” Luke detected a hint of seriousness in the conversation, so he dropped the questions, “okay.”

“Okay.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long are you going to stay away from home?” Luke questioned, concern lacing his words.

“A pretty long time,” Michael admitted sadly, “At least for a couple of months. I’m not really ready to face them yet, not after what they did.”

Luke stayed silent, hoping for more information.

“I’m probably staying at some motel,” the blonde boy changed the topic.

Luke furrowed his eyebrows. “Motel? For several months? Do you have enough money? What about food? Can you afford to feed yourself, three times a day?”

“Maybe,” Michael said quietly.

Playing with his lip ring, the older man thought for a while.

“So… do you want to live with me?” he said in a small voice, nervously scratching his nose.

“Huh?” Michael stared dumbly at him.

“Not that you have to!” he said quickly, “it’s your choice, of course, but I thought… since you ran away from home, you could come live with me. I’m not home half the time, you could totally make the place yours. And I kind of really need someone to keep it, you know, homey.” Luke knew he was rambling, but the words kept tumbling out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop himself.

“I-uh,” Michael gulped, “I can’t afford the rent. Even if I quit school and, um, work. Sorry. I can’t afford it.”

Luke frowned. “You’re not going to be paying a single cent,” he said, “my salary can—and will—cover all expenses. You just focus on school and don’t worry about the rent. Think of it as a favor, yeah?” His tone bordered on whiny, and he knew he probably sounded like he was begging Michael.

But the other boy was still hesitant. “No,” he insisted weakly, though Luke knew he was about to give in, “that’s too much to ask from you.”

“Come on.” Luke gently wrestled the heavy bag Michael was holding out of his hands, opening the backseat door and depositing it there. “It’s getting late. You probably have school tomorrow, right? Get some rest at my place.”

Michael was silent as he allowed himself to be pushed into the car and driven to Luke’s home. Overwhelming gratitude flowed through him and settled at the bottoms of his feet with a slight tingle.

He couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips as he snuck a glance sideways at Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a couple of weeks back it just kind of occurred to me that the numbers displayed on the bottom of that little box thing means something.
> 
> Each hit is a person, an individual, a teenager, or an adult, or a twelve-year-old who doesn't know what to do with their life, who was intrigued by the (unsurprisingly crappy) summary and clicked inside. And there are a /thousand/ of those around the world.
> 
> Each kudos represents a person actually liking what I've written and taking the time to show it.
> 
> Each bookmark symbolises someone who wants to read more of what I've written.
> 
> Each comment means someone wants to hold a conversation, or express an opinion, or something of the sort on my fic.
> 
> Each one of those numbers (currently 1612, 113, 103, and 14, total 1842) means so fucking much to me you have no idea how grateful I am for each and every one of you, especially you, yes, /you/, right now, reading this author's note.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> Stay strong, my loves, and I'll see you next chapter <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three months. I haven't updated for three months.
> 
> I feel like at this point, I can't even make excuses anymore. All I can say is I'm sorry. Really.
> 
> This is a really short chapter, kind of a filler, it's not even 1K. But this bit of plot is necessary for the oncoming chapters.
> 
> The main reason I'm posting now is because exams start next week, and I really wanted to get a chapter out before then.
> 
> Again, I'm sorry.

The slamming door made Michael flinch from where he was curled up on the couch. He had been too lazy to go to the guest bedroom.

It’s been a few weeks and Michael’s finally starting to ease himself into the fast-paced lifestyle Luke’s got going on. He’s still got the key to his parents’ house, and he used it to retrieve the rest of his belongings. Luke let him stay at the guest bedroom in his apartment, and Michael tried to imitate the way his bedroom was before without being too messy; he’s still afraid to be too much of a bother to Luke. However, the older man helped Michael settle in as much as he possibly could, with gentle words of encouragement and reassurance.

He’s communicated with his parents via text regarding the issues about school and residence. The final agreement was that Karen and Daryl would continue paying for Michael’s education, but he told them that he was going to be staying at a friend’s house for a couple of weeks. His parents agreed immediately, not really caring about who the friend was or where the friend’s house was. Michael was fine with that. It gave him more freedom to do whatever he pleased.

Some parts of his new home was still foreign to him, such as the few rules Luke had laid down. It simply included a few basic things, such as no disturbing Luke when he was working, or if Michael respects Luke’s privacy than he will do the same, mundane things such as those that Michael had scoffed at first but proceeded to follow them nonetheless.

The first few days were confusing for both of them. Luke accidentally woke Michael up for school at the wrong time, thinking that he was supposed to get up at 5:45 A.M. when it was actually supposed to be 6:45A.M. He earned himself a whack over the head with a pillow for disturbing Michael’s precious “beauty rest”.

On top of that, Michael was still familiarising himself with the whole “privacy” issue. He’s used to walking around the house without a shirt on, sometimes even without pants on, because there’s no one at home to judge him. Not to mention the countless times Luke’s walked in on him jacking off to some low-quality porno on his laptop, then, with a horrified gasp, slammed the door shut with such force that the picture frames hanging on the walls rattled.

Michael’s working on adjusting.

It’s become a routine now: waking up earlier than he’s used to to grab a few bites before letting Luke drop him off at school since it’s too far away to walk. Acting like the living dead from 8:00 AM to 4:00 until Luke arrives to drive him home. Putting in a little less than half the effort required into his never-ending homework assignments, washing up, then finally go to bed, only to wake up to the same chronology of events, over and over and over again.

It’s not that bad, he reprimanded himself, it could have been worse. He could have been living on the streets, simply a pathetic high school drop-out who can’t afford a place to live. He should be grateful that Luke even offered him a place to stay.

There’s still something foreign about Luke’s house that made him fidgety.

***

“How’re you holding up, Mike?” Ashton questions as they walk to the gates after school, “Everything okay? You adjusting?”

“I’m coping,” Michael smiles. He’s come out of his shell more, and Ashton was glad to see that change in him. “Thanks for asking,” the blonde adds politely.

“I’m actually asking you this because, well, it’s your turn to host our project workdays this week,” he explained, immediately realising how insensitive that might be. “But, I mean, I can take yours over, it’s fine with me if it’s fine with you,” he hurriedly blurted.

“It’s alright,” Michael glanced down at the pavement and marvelled at how the blistering heat from the concrete can travel through the thick soles of his shoes. “I’m sure Luke will agree. I’ve still got to ask him about it, though. I forgot to.”

“Okay then,” Ashton agreed, “don’t hesitate to tell me if it doesn’t work out, got it? I’d be glad to help out—even if it’s issues not relating to school.” He shot a reassuring smile at the blonde teen and walked over to where his siblings were waiting for him. “See you tomorrow!” he called out over his shoulder.

“Bye,” Michael said back, returning his gaze to the road in front of him where he continued scanning for Luke’s shiny black car.

***

“Luke?” Michael asked, fiddling with his sleeves that went over his hands.

“Uh-huh?” The blonde had his eyes on the road, and he flipped his sunglasses down from where they were resting on his head to avoid the piercing rays of the sun messing with his driving.

“I have a project at school, and it’s a big project, like, forty percent of my grade, and,” Michael paused, “and we—me and my group members—agreed that each week we would meet up at each of our houses, because, well, it seems fair that way, and this week it’s my turn, so I was wondering if, um,”

“Of course you may,” Luke said with a small smile. “It’s technically also your house now. _Mi casa es tu casa_ , right?”

“R-right,” Michael stuttered, also smiling, “thanks, Luke.”

“Mm-hmm,” Luke hummed, a smirk hanging on his lips, “no problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before, it's a filler, don't expect too much from it.
> 
> The good thing is, even though I was really stuck on this chapter (like SHEESH), I have a couple of segments written out for the later chapters. As soon as summer vacation starts, which is really really soon, I promise, I'll be able to write more chapters more productively.
> 
> Thank you, my lovelies, for being so patient with me, I love you all so much like you have no idea. If you've put up with me up till this point I really owe you an apology for being such a procrastinating idiot.
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day, I feel like I haven't been saying that enough these past two chapters, so I'm just letting you know that I love reading through the comments. I try and make it my mission to reply to every single one of them, because I'm very particular that way, and also they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside like I swallowed a cat (that came out wrong no I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT I SWEAR I DON'T SWALLOW CATS).
> 
> You guys are amazing and I love you please don't do stupid stuff like stapling your hand okay bye.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know what you guys are going to think about this chapter but nevertheless, enjoy :)

“Cal…” Michael whined, sprawled out carelessly across his bed with his head on Calum’s lap, “I’m bored… Ash is gone and we’re done with the project.”

“How can you be bored?” The tanned boy tossed back, “I’m right here.”

Michael snorted and pushed Calum away from him. “Whatever. Do you play FIFA?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Good point. When is your mum picking you up again?”

“She isn’t. I can stay as late as I want. Er—as late as you want,” Calum corrected himself.

“So you’re up for getting your ass kicked at FIFA?”

“I think it’s the other way around,” he smiled deviously with such confidence that it made Michael somewhat nervous.

The blonde boy cleared his throat. “I seriously doubt that.”

***

Michael wiped at the sweat dripping down his forehead and stuck the tip of his tongue out in concentration. Beside him, he heard Calum laugh in the rough voice he had.

“What?” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Nothing,” Calum replied, “You’re cute when you’re focused, did you know that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” the Kiwi boy said again, still with that cheeky tilt to his voice.

Michael was suddenly all too aware of their thighs pressed together on the couch that didn’t offer much space. It was hot and sunny outside, which was why they had drawn the curtains, but that didn’t do much other than block the light. The stuffiness of summer still made their bare skin sweaty and sticky.

He shifted away just a centimetre from Calum subtly. “Sorry, this is kind of awkward.”

“How so?” Calum sounded genuinely curious.

“You know, w-with the heat and all that.”

“Not really. But if it is weird then it’s a good kind of weird.”

“Uh?” Michael made a curious sound and wanted to die of embarrassment.

Calum chuckled. Pausing the game, he moved so that he faced Michael and smiled. It was more of a smirk, actually, and his warm brown eyes sparkled with mirth.

Michael’s heart was thumping so loud that he was surprised Calum didn’t hear it. He gulped, and tried to look away but couldn’t. The chocolate brown irises were mesmerising.

He had always thought that Calum was handsome, masculine in a way that he could never be with his muscular arms and perfect tan. He’d always thought that if he were a girl, Calum would be the type he’d go for.

Apparently he didn’t have to be a girl.

Slowly, gently, Calum took hold of Michael’s chin and tilted it up so that they were face-to-face, only inches apart.

Then they kissed.

At first it was only dry lips on lips, but then Calum slid his tongue into Michael’s warm mouth and the teen fell limp. It was as if his bones didn’t work anymore, and he leaned against Calum’s firm chest as arms wrapped around his waist and brought him even closer. Subconsciously he reached up and hesitantly touched the side of Calum’s face as they kissed.

They were full-on making out by now, Michael’s brain still mush and not really comprehending what exactly was going on. Their tongues intertwined and curled against each others’, and it was so _hot_.

Suddenly, the blonde’s thoughts caught up. What was he even _doing_? Startled, he pushed Calum away and scrambled backwards, accidentally falling on the floor.

“Michael…?” Why was Calum so calm? He was acting as if nothing had happened, while Michael was freaking out.

“I-I-I ha-ave to—g-go,” he stuttered, the annoying speech impediment once again making an unwanted appearance.

***

About ten minutes after stumbling away from the building did Michael realise that he was running away from _where he lived_. As he came to this realisation he swore loudly, attracting the attention of a young couple nearby pushing their baby in a stroller, who then shot him a dirty look and walked briskly away.

Michael mumbled a reluctant “sorry” under his breath, not that they heard him.

What was he supposed to do now? Was he supposed to return to Luke’s apartment and risk the chance of Calum still being there? Was he supposed to hang around until he was absolutely certain that Calum had left?

What bothered Michael most was how unbothered he felt about the actual kiss.

And even the slightest recap of the intimacy made his cheeks flush red.

Supposedly, it was… _wrong_ … for guys to kiss other guys, right? That was what he was raised to believe, and what society expected him to believe.

So why did it feel so right?

Michael wasn’t gay, was he?

Don’t get him wrong, he full-heartedly supported the LGBTQ+ community with every fibre of his being, but…

Something about _Michael Clifford_ and _homosexual_ together just bothered him.

And, back to Calum Thomas Hood. He was attractive, Michael had to give him that. And the perfect boyfriend. Dating him wouldn’t be the worst experience, Michael supposed.

Yeah, okay, maybe he was overreacting a bit.

***

As Luke stepped in the front door he was immediately engulfed with a warm body leaping towards him.

“Take off your jacket, drop your bag, sit down, we need to talk,” Michael said hurriedly. He seemed especially antsy today.

“Hey,” Luke said gently, pulling Michael down to sit on the couch, “what’s wrong?”

All the energy seemed to suddenly drain out of the teenager. “’S nothing,” Michael said, rubbing his hands over his eyes, “it’s just… I-I dunno, it’s probably nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if you act like that,” Luke said. “Tell me.”

“There’s this kid at school,” Michael began slowly, “and we’re friends.”

“That’s good. Friends is good.”

“And then one day when I was at his house and we were playing FIFA…” Michael looked down at his hands. “We were playing FIFA, and it was on the couch and it was kind of weird because it was hot and sweaty but neither of us was moving and I told him so, but he said to me that it was a good kind of weird.” The words just kept tumbling out of Michael’s mouth, there was no holding them back now. “I asked him what that meant and he paused the game and smiled at me and I-I didn’t know why but my stomach felt all fluttery—” the teen twisted away from Luke so that the older man couldn’t see his face.

“And, and then,” Michael took a deep breath, “one moment he was smiling and the next thing I knew he was k-k-kissing me!” Michael was in full panic mode now, hands flapping, eyes blown wide and a reddish hue to his cheeks.

Luke inhaled sharply. Stay calm, he told himself, stay calm for Michael. Michael needed him now. He put a reassuring hand on Michael’s knee and rubbed soothingly, trying to calm the kid down.

“Mikey,” he said in a low voice, “it’s okay, try to calm down. I understand if this is frightening—”

“A-and I liked it!” the teen burst out into tears, cutting off Luke’s sentence. Luke sat there, one eyebrow raised, and feeling something he had never felt before in his stomach. It felt like someone was compressing his organs and giving it a solid twist, and he wanted to throw up.

“What do you mean, you liked it?” Luke asked carefully.

“I was all tingly… a g-good kind of tingly,” Michael said, “and, he kept on k-kissing me and I didn’t stop him.”

Luke’s entire body felt numb. Was this what people called jealousy? Because if this wasn’t jealousy, he didn’t know what was.

Forcing a smile on his face, Luke asked, “What’s this guy’s name?” He had never wanted to punch another person in the face so badly.

“C-ca-lum.” Michael’s face was beet red, he tried to hide it behind a cushion he held tightly to his chest.

“Calum,” he repeated slowly.

“So I guess what I’m telling you is—” Michael lowered his head until his mouth was covered by the cushion and mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” Luke pulled the teen’s arm away, successfully making him drop it.

“…I’m gay.”

“That’s great! Is this your official coming-out? Oh, God, I’m so proud of you. I always knew you were, actually. Ha, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. I’ve seen the way you stare at my arms. I’ve always reckoned that if you weren’t gay you’d at least be bi. Well, you came out. Did I mention how proud I am? Like a proud mother hen, I am. You know, I remember when I came out in college. _Eesh_ , not exactly what you would call friendly reaction. So what are you planning to do next? Are you going to tell your parents? Wait, who else knows about this?”

“Luke,” Michael interrupted, “Luke… wait. Wait.”

“Yeah?” The older man’s head was thrumming with excitement and he could feel the grin cracking his chapped lips.

“What do you mean, you always knew I was gay?”

The puppy-like energy deflated. “Oh, you know… uh… I always, um, knew you weren’t straight?”

“Yeah, no shit, _Lukey_. That’s what gay means.”

Luke blushed, something rare in itself. “It’s just… you know, your stare always lingers a bit too long on… my arms… and, uh, sometimesonmyarse,” he said in a rush, as if that would make Michael not comprehend what he just said.

Now it was the blonde boy’s turn to blush. He never knew he was being so obvious with the staring. But, to be fair, Lucas Robert Hemmings did have a nice ass. And in his defence, anybody that was even the slightest bit _human_ would notice it.

Michael cleared his throat. “Well, now you know.”

“Yeah,” Luke said, “now I officially know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI YOU GUYS! I'M BACK AFTER EXAMS, AND I SURVIVED!!! (Just barely. I found out that I got a C on my math exam so I'm kind of still beating myself up for it. At least it wasn't a D. Actually getting a D on math would be terrifying. I strongly advise against it.)
> 
> SO. School has been dead for a couple of days now, and I've been spending each day sleeping until the afternoon and let me tell you, it. Is. Heavenly. *blissful smile*
> 
> I hope you've all been well :). I'm fantastic, thanks for asking, and I'm preparing myself for two whole months of shutting myself in my room, shivering from the AC and getting paler by the minute from the lack of sun :D *cheesy thumbs up*
> 
> Comments from you lovely people are what make my day, so be sure to leave something below because you all are AMAZING and WONDERFUL and GORGEOUS and SEXY and if I could be in a polygamous relationship with all of you, I totally would. No but seriously, I want to know what you thought about Calum and Michael and suggestions for possible future plotlines.
> 
> But, uh, if you're too lazy to write something in that comment box then just leave a kudo ("kudo" is the singular form of "kudos", isn't it? It sounds a bit off). That is, if you haven't already. I'm fine either way.
> 
> I'll see you beautiful people (or dogs or cats or giraffes. I don't discriminate.) next chapter. Stay awesome <3 <3 <3
> 
> ((P.S. If you can't tell, I'm in a surprisingly good mood, unsurprisingly because it's summer vacation.))


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Da da da! Chapter 13, way earlier than I planned. Wow, summer vacation is really doing something to me. It... it's moved me. *tears up* *dramatically dots at tears with embroidered handkerchief*
> 
> Here you guys go. Enjoy.

The first thing Michael Clifford did when he went to school the next day was search for Calum, also known as the only person on fucking planet Earth to mess with Michael’s head since… well, forever.

And he was never one to let something as big as this sit inside of him and gnaw at his nerves. No, he made up his mind bright and early in the morning to confront the guy who had stolen _his first kiss_ and acted so damn nonchalant about it.

He stormed through the hallways, slinking between students and teachers wandering the halls, darting his way up staircases and such to find the Kiwi boy.

Halfway through his search, Michael was reminded by the shrill pre-warning bell that finding a student (whom he didn’t even know the locker number of) was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Maybe even more difficult. Who knows.

He slumped through his morning classes, dejected that he wasn’t able to accomplish the one thing he set out to do this day, until lunch, when there was finally enough time to go and talk to Calum.

Michael scanned the crowded cafeteria, wrinkling his nose at the smell that vaguely reminded him of spoiled milk and rotten broccoli. Students rushed by, plopping down on plastic chairs, carrying suspiciously sticky, tacky neon orange trays.

To put it simply, it made Michael want to vomit.

He finally spied Calum sitting with Ashton and a couple of other boys at one of the tables at the corner. It figures that they would sit further away from the majority of the student population.

Gripping his backpack straps in both his hands, the blonde boy went toward their direction, cringing at every step he set down on the disgusting floor.

He approached the table hastily, smoothing down his fringe with his left hand (a habit he’d picked up over the years). “Calum?” he croaked, cleared his throat, then repeated the name again.

The tanned boy looked up from the conversation he was previously having with Ashton about why Vans were better than Converse into Michael’s downcast eyes and quivering mouth. He was immediately worried, because, to be honest, the boy looked like he was about to cry at any moment. Excusing himself, Calum guided Michael out of the cafeteria and down an empty hallway where they could talk without being eavesdropped on.

“What’s up?” Calum asked casually, leaning back against the lockers with his hands in his pockets.

“What’s up?” Michael repeated incredulously, blinking furiously, “ _What’s up?_ You rob my lip virginity—shut up, I know that’s not a thing—and the very next day you want to know what’s up? God, Calum, you’re such a fucking douche! Here I am, preparing myself to asking you on a kinda-sorta-maybe-date and you ask me what is up. I don’t even know why I bother. I-I just… I don’t. I really don’t.” He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Hold up,” Calum narrowed his eyes, “ _You_ wanted to ask _me_ out on a _date_?”

A flush rose high on Michael’s cheekbones. “I—uh, I didn’t exactly say that,” he stammered.

“You did!” Calum crowed triumphantly. “Michael Clifford wanted to ask me out on a date. Wow. I’m flattered. I really am. All the bitches can go fuck themselves because,” he grinned down at the blushing blonde, “Mr. Clifford here just asked me out on a date. Truth to be told, I didn’t exactly expect you to be so ballsy, you know. But, oh well, you learn something new every day!” He ruffled Michael’s hair, leaving it a messier mess than it already was.

“So…” Michael tugged on his sleeves and looked sideways, trying to appear confident, “is… is that a yes?”

“It’s a hell _fucking_ yes,” Calum confirmed.

Something warm started in Michael’s chest. It was like melted chocolate, but even better. It was like chocolate dipped in chocolate.

Then it came to an abrupt stop. He didn’t know what to do now. Hell, he hadn’t planned this out at all.

“Uh… Cal?” he asked Calum, who was still grinning like an idiot in front of him.

“Yes, Mikey?”

“Asking you was about as far as I planned this, so I kind of don’t know what to do now,” he admitted.

Calum laughed. More like roared, actually. Calum was a loud laugher. “Yeah, I figured you’d do something like that. Don’t worry. Leave it to the pro.” He thumped a hand on his chest, an action that vaguely reminded Michael of Tarzan.

“B-but I’m the one who asked you—”

“I said _don’t worry_ , Clifford. Seriously. It’s fine. Just be ready tonight for a spontaneous date.” Calum winked, bopped Michael on the nose gently, and strode away down the hall.

Michael stared after him, dumbfounded. _Okay_. That went a lot better than he anticipated.

***

Luke was having a shit day so far.

Just yesterday did Michael confirm that he had another pursuer who took a romantic interest in him. Luke had always suspected that he might have one; there was no way a person as lovely and wonderful as him could wander the halls without catching the attention of another.

He’d always imagined it would be only him, though. The fact that Michael was _way_ out of his, well, appropriate age range never struck him quite as hard as it did just now. It was like a patronising parent, sternly telling him that he couldn’t have what he wanted while Luke threw a tantrum, stomping his foot and whining like a spoiled brat.

_Mother says no, Lucas._

_But why?_ he whined in his head, crossing his arm with an angry pout.

_Because._

_Because you’re a bitch,_ Luke grumbled.

_That’s not the way to speak to your mother, Lucas._

_Fuck you._ Luke sighed and reverted his attention to the papers at hand. Let’s see. Reports, statistics, new proposals, blah blah blah. He’d seen it all before. Nothing new or of interest to him.

Not like Michael.

The boy never failed to intrigue him. There was always something about him that caught his attention, as if Luke were the fish and Michael were the bait. Michael never failed to surprise him.

And now this _Calum_ intrudes.

Luke rubs a hand over his eyes tiredly and checks his phone. It’s only ten to twelve. Presumably when Michael would be having lunch. He glanced at his glowing computer screen and the countless emails he had to reply to. Probably wouldn’t be home until at least nine p.m.

There was so much work to do, so little time to do it…

Luke decided to text Michael.

Why the fuck shouldn’t he? It’s not like he’s got anything better to do.

***

Michael’s phone buzzed against his thigh. He drew it out of his pocket and swiped across the screen.

 

Luke: Mikeyyyyyyyy

The blonde boy pursed his lips. Texts like this from Luke were what annoyed him to no end. There was no clear purpose, intent, or content. So why did he even bother?

 

Michael: what do you want

Luke: You replied! :-)

Michael: not if you keep being such an annoying jackass

Luke: That’s mean, Michael. Don’t talk to your elders like that.

Michael: fuck elders

Michael: no thats mean i take it back sorry elders

Luke: :-(

Michael: im calling you now. pic kup

Luke: Okay.

Holding the phone up to his ear, Michael looked around at his surroundings. It was empty.

“Lucas Hemmings,” he greeted as soon as the _beep, beep_ stopped.

“Mikayla Cliffordus,” Luke replied. That asshole. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Luke,” he huffed, “It doesn’t have the same effect when you do it.”

“Doubt that,” Luke laughed, his voice broken and static-y over the line. “Are you at school?”

“Where else would I be?” Michael said.

“Dunno. Juvie. Denmark. Middle of the Sahara desert,” Luke teased.

“Shut up, Luke.”

“Make me, Clifford.”

“You… you fucktard,” Michael was glad Luke couldn’t see him. It would’ve been pretty embarrassing to be seen sporting a tomato-red blush.

“Fucktard, huh? Well, that’s new,” Lucifer (because Michael swore he was a reincarnation of the devil himself) chuckled.

“Shut up,” he said, simply because he could think of nothing else to say. “Why did you text me just now?” Michael changed the topic, sliding down the lockers until his bum hit the floor, and he just sat in the middle of the hallway, propping his chin on his palm while the other hand held the phone to his ear.

“I was bored and I didn’t feel like doing any work.”

“I don’t know why your company hasn’t become bankrupt yet, with a boss like you,” Michael sassed.

“To be honest neither am I. Or maybe the world just loves me,” Luke said.

“Shut up. Oh, by the way,” Michael thought that he should probably tell Luke about his date. Not like he has any other friends to talk with, anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Guess what happened today?”

“Meteor struck the school. Camel got stuck in the bathroom. Oh, I know,” Luke snapped his fingers, “Your least favourite teacher got fired.”

“No. Don’t be absurd,” Michael frowned, then shook his head, substituting his frown with a much happier smile, “I asked Calum on a date! And he said yes!”

“Calum…” Luke would like to very much say that the name did not register with him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible.

“Yeah. Calum. Remember him?” Michael’s excitement was apparent even through the other side of the line, “I told you about him yes—”

“I remember,” Luke interrupted, a hard edge to his voice. The younger boy frowned. Why wasn’t Luke responding like Michael had hoped?

“So, uh,” he laughed awkwardly, “it’s tonight. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Uh huh,” Luke sounded distant, as if he were thinking about something else. He cleared his throat. “Hey, look, I’ve got something to do. Um, have fun on your d-date. I’ll be home late, okay? Don’t wait up.”

 _Click_. He’d hung up.

Michael stared at the little _call ended_ sign. Luke was behaving weirdly.

Whatever. He could deal with his own problems. Right now Michael was having his own.

What was he going to _wear_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? Don't care about it?
> 
> Let me know in the comments below! Also leave a kudo (I really have no idea whether kudo is or isn't the correct term. To be honest I really don't care that much either.) if you haven't already :)
> 
> Anyways.
> 
> A couple days ago I finished this book. And it's an amazing book. And I think I may be in love with the author. His name is Tom Rob Smith (I know. What a shitty name. His writing is amazing, though.) The book is called Child 44, though there's another book of his that I read last year called The Farm and both of them are mystery novels so if you're a fan of that I'd definitely suggest you go check it out. It's reeeaaaaaaaally good.
> 
> If you've been reading any good books please let me know. TV shows and anime can only do so much to ease a person's boredom.
> 
> Irregardless I hope you have a wonderful rest of the day, wherever you are, and maybe find a five dollar bill on the ground or something. Use it to buy, I dunno, A LIFE. BECAUSE WHAT ARE YOU DOING WASTING YOUR LIFE ON THE INTERNET? GO OUT AND ENJOY THE SUNSHINE.
> 
> (Pfft. As if I'm one to talk.)
> 
> (Also if that above was offensive in any way, I apologise. I really don't know when I've stepped over the line. Basically for me, the line doesn't exist.)
> 
> I really appreciate you guys reading this fic, even if you're just barely tolerating the horrendous quality of writing... thanks...
> 
> I'll see you sexy amazing people in the next chapter.


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